


Mine Tonight

by Mackem



Category: Fake News RPF, The Daily Show
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, M/M, Submission, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon thinks his first show is terrible. Stephen helps him unwind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine Tonight

Jon had been with the show some six months now, one month behind the scenes and five months on air. He wasn't sure which had been harder; preparing himself in such a short time for taking over hosting duties, or actually getting out there and stepping into Craig's shoes. Craig's gigantic _clown_ shoes.   
  
It had been hard, definitely. Putting himself out there and dealing with the inevitable criticism that came with being a new member of an established show. He had not been surprised to receive hate mail. In fact, he had been _more_ surprised when he received his first positive mail, suggesting that he was both witty, at ease and a far better host than Craig had ever been. He'd laughed it off to the crew, but secretly kept it in his bottom drawer for times he needed a smile.  
  
But what had been more surprising, perhaps, was the way he was able to drop so smoothly into easy relationships with the cast and crew of the show. He had honestly thought it would have been an uphill struggle to get them to like him, something which embarrassed him now; but then, of course, he'd never been Mister Self-Esteem. He had come from the position of outsider, considering himself a struggling, if not failed, comedian, usurping the established talent - even forcing his name into the show's title! He had realised later that he'd been worrying over nothing, as usual. Far from the entire office mourning the loss of their friend and compadre, Jon had discovered that Craig had not exactly proved popular with...well, just about anyone, really. Jon had been welcomed with open arms and big smiles, and had stepped willingly if shyly into a workplace of new friendships.   
  
And one "friendship".  
  
  
  
  
Jon was still not entirely sure what to call what he and Stephen had. He had been very wary about meeting him, probably more than was warranted. But after all, the guy had been on the short-list to replace Craig, so Jon had effectively snatched the job away from him. He had almost winced the first time he had shaken hands with Stephen, expecting to have his hand crushed by the taller man. It would only be fair, he had reasoned.  
  
But evidently Stephen was a bigger man than he - in more senses than the obvious - as he had been nothing but genial with Jon. Friendly, in fact. He had walked into Jon's office - far too large and official for his liking, it really shoved home the point: Jon could no longer afford to screw around and hope MTV didn't pull the plug. Stephen had seen a man looking lost behind his huge desk and its piles of paperwork. Jon had expected a sly jab about his lack of preparedness; he had _received_ a much-needed cup of coffee.  
  
  
  
  
 _"Hi there. Stephen Colbert, nice to meet you."  
"Oh, thanks, hey...uh, same here. Um, oh, it's Jon. Stewart. Jon Stewart."  
"I know, I caught sight of the name on the banner when I came into the studio today."  
"Oh...tacky, huh? I guess it looks like I'm pushing myself forward too much."  
"No, not at all! I think it was a great idea. This way, we can really differentiate our new period from Craig's. People will know to expect something new."  
"I...yeah, I thought so too."_  
  
  
  
  
And that had been that. Jon had been given a reassuring smile and had been left to his business, weirdly calmed by this one interaction. Maybe he had just needed to know there was no resentment on the crew. Maybe it was more than that. He hadn't known at the time, and, if he was honest, still didn't. It was hard to understand what was going on, between himself and his employee.  
  
He reminded himself of that, sometimes; that Stephen worked for him. Hell, sometimes he reminded _Stephen_ of it. Never whilst working, though; it was never needed. They had remained entirely professional in the workplace despite whatever they had been doing in the privacy of Jon's office. He would see Stephen's eyes fixed to his ass as he bent to fasten his shoelaces, or grinning smugly as he fetched him coffee afterwards, and would huff to himself and remind Stephen who paid who. It never failed to make the other man laugh. It was obvious who was in charge, outside of their professional relationship.  
  
  
  
  
Whatever the hell they had together had begun at work, though, in Jon's consideration. The very first night he had hosted the show, in fact. It had been, in Jon's opinion, a shambles. He had fucked up the interview with Michael J. Fox, an amiable man who had coped brilliantly with Jon's own nervousness and panic. Backstage, people had celebrated, broken out champagne and lied to his face, telling him he was wonderful and patting him on the back. He had slunk off to his office, unnoticed.  
  


~*~

  
  
The door to his office was ajar. This was unusual; Jon had a fastidious habit of shutting his door behind him. It was a privacy thing. He noticed his apparent lapse only because it meant that when he kicked it, moodily, it had swung open easily.   
  
Jon scowled as he sloped inside, kicking it shut again behind him with a sharp, left-footed kick. There was no satisfaction in hearing it click shut. He turned away from it, scowling at nothing but himself, and jumped in shock when faced with somebody lounging gracefully against his desk.   
  
"Jesus!" he cried, stepping back before realising who it was. "Stephen? What the - there's a party downstairs, people will miss you," he sighed, rubbing the side of his nose; a nervous habit.  
  
"And people won't miss you, the star of the show?" Stephen asked, grinning far too widely for Jon's liking. He scowled instinctively, finding Stephen's crossed-arms and easy slouch horribly impertinent in his bad mood.  
  
"Sure, I was definitely the star of that piece of shit," he sighed, growling at himself. "Would you mind giving me some time to myself?"  
  
"You don't need to be alone right now," Stephen assured him, smiling despite Jon's temper. Jon frowned, grey eyes narrowing.  
  
"Sure I do. I need time to prepare tomorrow's fuck-ups. Performances like that don't happen by accident, you know," he snapped, grunting in frustration as Stephen merely chuckled. He watched Stephen stand, momentarily smug in the belief that the taller man was going to comply with his request, before stepping back as Stephen headed not for the door, but straight for Jon.  
  
  
  
  
"If I leave you alone, you're going to sit all by yourself and convince yourself of everything from 'I ruined tonight's show' to 'I shouldn't even be working here at all'. Am I right?" Jon cursed beneath his breath as Stephen strode closer; the douchebag was right, but Jon was in no mood to hear reason from anyone.  
  
"Fuck you, Stephen," he snarled wearily, quite prepared to push the other man away if he attempted to give him a reassuring hug, or whatever pathetic condolences he had planned. He found himself surprised, however, as Stephen merely stood far too close to him. Taking a step back to compensate, he found himself backing off as Stephen walked with him. His eyes widened in surprise as he finished up with his back pressed against the door and Stephen mere inches in front of him. The taller man smirked down at him - _damn_ the fucking height difference - and leaned across Jon to turn the lock on the door. It clicked with an ominous finality in the suddenly strange silence between the men.   
  
  
  
  
"Stephen...what the hell is going on?" Jon asked in shock, his palms pressed back against the door. Which was silly, of course - he was hardly some frightened little child faced with the bogeyman! Nevertheless, his hands remained planted against the smooth wood.  
  
"You don't need to be alone right now," Stephen repeated, but now his tone was completely different. Gone was the fond chuckle, replaced instead with a smooth purr, his dark eyes fixed on Jon's intently. Jon found himself swallowing drily, Adam's apple bobbing, as strong fingers gently curled around his chin. They stroked the skin, just beginning to stubble, with a tender softness before tilting his head up to meet Stephen's lips. Jon squeaked into the kiss instinctively, the sound lost between the two of them, before closing his eyes as he was pressed back firmly against the door.   
  
Stephen's lips were _amazing_. They moved with confidence over Jon's own dry mouth, coaxing him into returning the kiss as a large hand pushed firmly against his shoulder, pinning him. The contradiction was enticing; tender lips drawing a moan from him as they withdrew, but the hand keeping him in place unyielding and intoxicating in the strength it hinted at.  
  
"You...didn't really answer my question," Jon murmured meekly, eyes half-lidded and soft as he looked curiously up at Stephen. The eyes that returned his gaze were darker than normal, fond but obviously intent on some purpose.  
  
"You shouldn't be alone tonight. Okay, the show wasn't as smooth as it could have been," Stephen said quietly, but his voice kept Jon's attention easily enough. The smooth finality of Stephen's voice made him feel as if he were rooted to the spot, quite apart from being restrained. "I know you well enough to know that you're a control freak. You're going to sit here and blame yourself for everything if I let you. Well, I'm not _going_ to let you," Stephen whispered, grinning as he leaned closer to Jon. He slid his free hand confidently around Jon, smiling in satisfaction as he instinctively arched his back away from the door to allow him room, not having to think about the unconscious submission.  
  
Jon's weight lay divided between Stephen's strong arms, and his own hands pushing him up from the door, supporting himself warily as every muscle in his body tightened and trembled. "I'm taking the control away, Jon. It's mine, now - you're mine tonight," Stephen said with an air of simplicity. Jon's breath caught as he spoke, his eyes wide and far more innocent than his years suggested was true as he looked up at his friend.  
  
"What...what do you mean?" he managed, his voice weaker than he wanted as Stephen fixed unblinking eyes on him. Stephen smiled warmly, reassuring Jon's growing nerves.  
  
"You don't have to worry," Stephen soothed. "It's just a physical distraction. I won't do anything you don't want. You can always tell me to stop, and I'll listen. I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, pressing his lips to Jon's as he spoke, the grin evident in his voice even if he couldn't see it. "At least, not in any way you don't want."   
  
Jon shivered in his arms, helpless to stop himself keening softly. A warm sensation spread through his lower belly in a primal response to Stephen's words. He was undeniably enjoying Stephen's closeness, and his suddenly spinning thoughts were intrigued by his suggestions. Jon let himself be pulled closer to the taller man, closing his eyes and kissing him hesitantly. Timid arms left the door to wrap around Stephen as he dared to let him support his weight fully, trusting him implicitly.   
  
"Please," he stammered quietly, straining to make his words heard. "Please, do what you want."  
  
"Oh, good boy," Stephen murmured in response, a dirty smirk on his face. Jon was set back firmly on his feet, finding himself slightly light-headed. Stephen backed away slowly, returning to his comfortable perch against Jon's desk. Shy blue-grey eyes followed his movement as Jon ducked his head. He had to stop himself fiddling childishly with restless fingers as he awaited instructions, giving himself up to Stephen completely, nerves and all.   
  
Stephen grinned at him, and his words brought a blush to Jon's cheeks. "Strip yourself. But leave your tie, dear boy." Jon groaned at the very idea, physically cringing at the thought of displaying himself like that. He closed his eyes to ready himself.  
  
  
  
  
It seemed to take an eternity for his clumsy, fumbling fingers to unfasten the buttons of his suit jacket, the clothing suddenly seeming even more out-of-place on his thin frame. An awkward shrug shucked the heavy material from his shoulders and he let it land at his feet, releasing a gasping breath as the weight left his upper body. He gave Stephen a tentative glance; was he doing this right? Is this what he wanted? A shy, awkward man performing the world's slowest striptease? But Stephen's eyes remained glued to Jon, wearing a faint smile regardless of his faltering movements. Encouraged, if embarrassed at the attention, Jon moved onto his shirt.  
  
It must have taken him an age before he stood surrounded by most of his clothing, feeling ridiculous in nothing but his grey boxer shorts and blue silken tie hanging limp against his chest. His fingernails slid under the elasticated waistband of his underwear as he took a trembling breath, trying to psyche up his dissenting mind, until Stephen spoke up. "Stop right there, that's fine. Don't you make a sweet sight?" he purred, and wandered leisurely towards Jon. He was met by wide, worried eyes and a cynical snort.   
  
"Hardly, I look absurd."  
  
"I don't recall giving you _permission_ to speak." Jon gasped in shock with Stephen's stern comment, the harsh tone suggesting he was nothing more than a disobedient animal. His mouth shut with a click as he hung his head, chastised and blushing fiercely as Stephen's fingertips toyed lightly over his chest. Jon trembled, feeling vulnerable as Stephen circled him possessively. Stephen's body brushed against him as he examined him thoroughly, cloth cool against his flushed skin, highlighting his comparative nudity. Hands touched him everywhere, fleeting yet fearless, experimentally teasing him and listening to his soft gasps and whimpers as his skin was stroked and pinched lightly. Jon's mind swam as Stephen's assured confidence flowed over and through him, his actions suggesting ownership; his body was no longer his, but Stephen's to use as he wished. Gentle thumbs teased his nipples into hard nubs as he moaned softly, swaying closer to the touch.  
  
"Sensitive little nipples, so sweet," Stephen hummed against Jon's ear, standing far too close behind Jon with his body pressed against Jon's. Both hands rested on Jon's shivering torso, one on his chest, idly toying with his right nipple, the other stroking his stomach. Jon froze in his arms, his head hanging with his eyes shut as he focussed completely on the sensations against his skin, swimming in Stephen's control. Not since college, not since ritual locker-room humiliation, could he remember feeling so small, and yet this was different; this was desired. Jon would bend himself to Stephen's will completely, if needed. Already his underwear felt tight, cloying against his erection; he wanted more, needed the shame of nakedness. He squeaked helplessly as Stephen gave his sensitive nipple a firm pinch, and willingly leaned back against his strong chest as the arms tightened possessively around him.  
  
"What do you want from me? You can speak," Stephen murmured into his ear, the words all he could hear as he focussed entirely on his tormentor.  
  
"Whatever you want to do to me," Jon whispered helplessly, giving himself up completely to Stephen. The man pressed against him suddenly stepped back, and Jon almost whined in disappointment: _don't leave me alone, please!_ But his heart almost stopped as his wrists were grasped behind his back, held firm in strong hands and wrapped around with soft material; Stephen's tie, he realised. The cloth was tied tightly around his wrists, with no thought given to mercy. He tugged curiously at his bonds as Stephen stepped away. A deep groan left his dry, trembling lips as the material chafed at his delicate skin; no escape, no niceties, just ownership.  
  
"What are you?" Stephen asked sharply as he strode to look Jon in the face, his features stony and his hands tilting Jon's head up. Jon swallowed, and answered in a murmur.  
  
"Yours."  
  
" _Good_ boy," Stephen replied, smiling in satisfaction. Large hands casually tugged down Jon's underwear with no warning, drawing an embarrassed mewl from the man as the material pooled at his bare feet. A curious hand trailed over his heated, velvety cock and Jon whimpered, not knowing if it was in misery or lust.   
  
  
  
  
"Sweet little whore," Stephen breathed, eyes fixed to Jon's shameful erection as he hung his head. He _was_ a whore, he knew it, so hard from this kind of treatment...any decent person would surely balk at this mistreatment, but he, god, he wanted more. Hands moved over him relentlessly, from his stomach to his balls, sliding around to squeeze and part his ass as if it were the most common action in the world. He mumbled incoherently and rocked his hips forward, shaking his head weakly - _no, I can't take that, please_ \- but Stephen's relentless hands followed, held him still and ignored his weak protests. Jon concentrated on breathing, eyes tightly closed and thin chest rapidly rising and falling as Stephen teased him intimately.  
  
"Ah, my desperate little boy," the taller man soothed, leaning to kiss Jon softly as his hands wandered over him, stripping him of his dignity and privacy and snatching control of his body away. Jon squirmed helplessly, overwhelmed by the constant touches. Eventually he grew brave - or desperate - enough to press himself closer to Stephen's hands. He found himself unsatisfied - the second he tried to gain more contact, Stephen backed away, grinning smugly as Jon huffed his frustrated disappointment. He raised his head to give Stephen a pleading gaze, eyes pitiful, and found himself gasping as the strong hands grasped his dangling tie. The material was tightened, the knot pushed up to his throat, past his comfort threshold until it was tight enough to restrict his breathing slightly. He produced a garbled noise of meek fear as Stephen tugged lightly at the tie, wrapping it around his hand and forcing Jon to step closer obediently or be strangled.  
  
"Good boy," Stephen smirked as Jon followed his leash, and Jon found himself simultaneously ashamed and proud of this twisted praise. Precisely how deep could he sink into Stephen's control, until he rebelled and asked for an end?   
  
"Now get to your knees," Stephen ordered calmly, eyes fixed on Jon's as he moaned. Jon sank down until his knees met the carpet, stumbling slightly with his hands unable to provide balance. His head bowed in deference to Stephen as the tie tightened and his lower lip trembled. Here he was, naked, bound and leashed before his employee like some whore, some pet of Stephen's to be played with. He should feel unhappy, afraid even, should want to fight for his control; but instead he felt freed, separate from his anxieties and fears. He was not in control, but was manipulated and guided by another. He was not alone, but protected. Safe. The warm feeling in his belly tightened with these thoughts and he moaned, eyes closing helplessly, needing instruction from Stephen.  
  
  
  
  
"Follow me," Stephen ordered, his voice brooking no complaint, as he turned his back and strode towards Jon's desk. Jon scrambled to follow on his knees, yelping as he almost fell and felt a sharp tug on his tie, gasping desperately. He had no choice but to follow, with Stephen not allowing him any slack; after all, his own thoughts assured him, he was a whore to be trained, and deserved no sympathy.   
  
Jon panted while Stephen leaned easily against his desk as if he owned it, as if the office were not Jon's but Stephen's. Sharp jerks on his tie guided Jon between Stephen's parted legs. He was embarrassed to find his head level with Stephen's crotch but did not resist, refusing to displease the man by leaning away. Instead he looked unblinkingly up at Stephen, knees burning and the skin at his neck reddened, his mind reeling with humiliation at finding himself leashed between his friend's legs. "Very good," Stephen murmured, running a large hand through Jon's dark hair, stroking him as if he were an animal to be rewarded for good behaviour. Jon was amazed to find himself naturally making a pleased noise and resting his head against Stephen's thigh. The action was oddly comforting and he closed his eyes as he allowed his mind to sink further into his submission, suppressing lingering desires of autonomy.   
  
His breathing had settled by the time Stephen removed his hand from Jon's hair. Jon's grey eyes shone with curiosity as he opened them, seeking more from the man towering over him. Stephen slid from the desk, turning his back on Jon to clear it methodically. Jon was left to wait impatiently, squirming on his knees, as Stephen ignored him in favour of tidying Jon's desk. The taller man piled papers in drawers and cleared away stationary as if Jon was the last thing on his mind. Finally, when the desk was apparently cleared to his liking, he turned back to Jon and gave an authoritative yank on his tie. "Up."  
  
Jon scrambled to his feet on jellied legs, cursing as he caught his shoulder against the desk gracelessly. Eventually able to stand, he meekly awaited further instructions from Stephen, refusing to act alone despite Stephen's obvious intentions. The orders, when spoken, brought a soft moan from him. "Bend yourself over your desk. Get your sweet little ass on display for me."   
  
Jon hesitated, preparing himself, and was rewarded with a sharp slap to his ass for his slowness. "I gave you an order!" Stephen reminded him sharply. He yelped and hurried forward, shocked to hear himself not snapping at Stephen in self-defence as he normally would, but instead murmuring weak apologies for his impertinence. He must not keep Stephen waiting, after all.   
  
Clumsy with his hands clenched uselessly in Stephen's tie, he draped himself over his desk. His soft skin flushed with his sudden humiliated vulnerability as he positioned himself for Stephen; legs tensed and spread, standing on the balls of his feet to curve his backside up on display, pressing his torso and face down to the uncomfortable surface obediently. His breath sped as Stephen nudged his legs further apart and drew his hips further up casually, arranging Jon for his pleasure. Jon moaned to himself desperately, his cock hard and pressed uncomfortably against the desk. He ached for the warm contact of Stephen's hand on his prick, needy and hopeful. Powerful hands instead smoothed over his back, shoulders and hips, tracing comforting patterns and calming his jittery nerves.  
  
  
  
  
"I'm going to fuck you, pretty little boy," Stephen murmured suddenly, his neat fingernails biting into Jon's ribs. Jon felt Stephen lie flush along his back, pressing close casually, and whimpered shakily. He groaned as Stephen smirked, his tone low and filthy. "Has anyone ever fucked that gorgeous ass of yours before?"  
  
"Y-yeah," Jon whispered, voice weak and unsure. "Long time ago."  
  
"That's my little whore," Stephen grinned wickedly in reply, pulling himself up to give Jon a fond pat on the ass. Jon whined with the action, feeling small. "So you'll know how this is going to go. Open wide, you're going to help me," Stephen ordered easily, pressing two fingers to Jon's lips. Jon opened his mouth obediently and took Stephen's fingers inside, sucking on them with his eyes shut. His tongue moved instinctively over Stephen's fingers, teasing at the pads as his cheeks hollowed, feeling dirtied with Stephen's soft noises of appreciation. "Oh, such a good little whore," Stephen moaned, pressing his hips against Jon's rounded, upturned ass. Jon groaned around Stephen's long fingers as he felt the firm, trapped cock against his ass, sucking all the harder; he wanted to impress this man, to show he deserved his attention.   
  
"That's enough," Stephen murmured gently as he pulled his fingers free, sighing at the loss of Jon's tongue. Jon gasped at the feel of a fingertip delicately tracing over his asshole, teasing at his crack before slipping a little way into his ass. He yelped softly in shame and lust as Stephen hummed behind him, the fingertip motionless inside him. "How does this feel, my whore?"  
  
"Embarrassing," Jon blurted, back arching as he wriggled restlessly, the soft intrusion of his ass making him squirm. "B-but good, it, it feels good, more, please, move..." He moaned softly as Stephen obliged, smirking as he worked his finger slowly in and out of Jon. His sensitive muscle was stretched slowly until he panted and writhed beneath his touch. Jon's desperate movements redoubled as Stephen found the magic sweet spot within him, drawing a surprised cry and a jagged thrust of his hips. Stephen chuckled at his reaction, sliding his finger repeatedly over the little spot, torturing Jon shamelessly as he gasped, helpless under the onslaught of overwhelming sensations. He barely noticed as Stephen pushed a second finger into him, his eyes squeezed shut as he rocked his hips back and forth onto Stephen's hand. The word _'whore'_ echoed through his mind as he panted and begged for more.  
  
"Oh, I'll give you more," Stephen whispered, glee evident in his voice as he removed his fingers, leaving Jon miserably straining for any contact at all on shaky legs. He heard a rustle, and the sound of a zip, before feeling a warm, insistent press against his ass.  
  
"Oh, fuck," he moaned as Stephen breached his asshole slowly, feeling the slick burn as the firm cock pushed into him. His back arched tightly as he yowled, Stephen's prick pushing at the same relentlessly slow pace, maddening in the burn and tight stretch until he felt the soft press of Stephen's balls against his ass.  
  
"What do you say?" Stephen asked, panting and tense.  
  
"Th-thank you," Jon whimpered, sobbing in frustration and trying to rock encouragingly back against Stephen. He whined as firm hands gripped his hips to hold him still. His own hands clenched in his bonds, twisting and trying to break free, wanting to either plead with Stephen or to touch himself. "Please, Stephen, oh please, fuck me, c'mon, _n-need_ it!"  
  
"Desperate little whore," Stephen growled, striking him sharply on the ass and moaning as Jon's muscles tensed in response. Jon wailed as Stephen's hands moved from his hips, one sliding beneath him to grasp his cock with a firm squeeze. Stephen wrapped his free hand wound around Jon's tie, used it to drag his head back and smirked at his strangled cry. "Begging me to fuck you, sh-shit, and not long ago you were telling me to leave you alone - poor, slutty little boy," he laughed in mock-sympathy as he worked his hips into a rough rhythm against Jon's ass. Jon moaned incoherently, struggling just to breathe, calling out a stream of needy nonsense as Stephen's hand worked over his cock. "Want it badly, don't you? Want me to let you come? So hard because I've treated you like you want, like the whore you know you are, and now you need the finish - you'll wait until I'm ready, won't you?" Stephen snarled, his hips almost vicious as they pushed against Jon.  
  
"Oh, _god_ , yes, please, yes Sir!" Jon sobbed, and Stephen gasped desperately, this unexpected submission making him lose all control. His ragged rhythm dissolved as he came fiercely, panting hard and squeezing at Jon's cock.  
  
"Come, wh-whore, you c-can..." Stephen managed, and Jon was unsurprised to find that the words were enough to push him over the edge. Jon cried out ecstatically as Stephen awarded him permission, collapsing bonelessly against his desk as he whimpered.   
  
He was far too pleased when Stephen, having pulled free from him, rested against his back with his hands soothingly stroking Jon's hair and back. "Shh, it's okay," Stephen whispered, loosening Jon's tie before picking at the knots in his own. He stroked Jon's arms tenderly after freeing them, guiding him up and holding him close comfortingly. Jon was shushed and soothed as he trembled safe in Stephen's arms, worn out but feeling oddly free.  
  
"Thank you," Jon whispered, clinging gladly to Stephen.  
  


~*~

  
  
The next show had been just as shaky, but Jon had been significantly more relaxed throughout - if slightly squirmy in his seat. Since then, Stephen and Jon had a kind of easy understanding about their relationship, an understanding they rarely tried to give words to. But, from that evening on, Jon was always happy to discover his office door ajar.


End file.
